


golden like morning (and hope, and love)

by kitfira



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bullying, Friendship, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining, no beta we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitfira/pseuds/kitfira
Summary: On a Tuesday afternoon, Akaashi Keiji finds himself in front of the gym door, fist poised to knock. There's a laminated timetable stuck to it, and Akaashi stares at smudged black marker bearing the words 'Volleyball Club', hesitating.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	golden like morning (and hope, and love)

On a Tuesday afternoon, Akaashi Keiji finds himself in front of the gym door, fist poised to knock. There's a laminated timetable stuck to it, and Akaashi stares at smudged black marker bearing the words 'Volleyball Club', hesitating.

Akaashi didn't join Fukurodanii for its volleyball team, although it was definitely one of the factors. It wasn't too far away from home, had a generally peaceful atmosphere with it being in a small city, and had a good rating (though not a top school, as his parents liked to remind him). He's heard a fair few rumours about the volleyball club in the hallways and in locker rooms, but Akaashi isn't really sure what to think.

"That server, he's really something... "

"Not to say it's bad, you know? I mean it's our school and all that, but... "

"Aoi-chan, you confessed?! Did he reply… "

Akaashi snaps back to reality, and sharply knocks on the door twice before swinging it open. The door creaks slightly with a squeak, and scrapes against the polished floor.

The players in the court seem to pause, and Akaashi sees one of them turn around, heading towards him.

"Hey hey hey!" Before Akaashi can register what is going on, a blur barrels towards him, just barely stopping enough for Akaashi to not get knocked to the ground. "Are you here for the volleyball club? How long have you been playing? What position do you play? Have you seen that game on television last night—"

"You're going to scare him," drifts a voice from inside the gym, accompanied by the pounding noise of a volleyball slamming to the ground. Apparently, the other players have gone back to playing. "Oh, nice one!"

The person lets out an— honest to Kami— hoot? "I'm Bokuto Koutarou, a second year!" he grins. "What's your name?"

"Akaashi Keiji," replies Akaashi. "I play setter— and, uhm, I'm a first year,"

Bokuto nods vigorously, not deterred by his unenthusiastic response. "Awesome!" he yells. "Will you toss for me?"

Akaashi tries not to let the apprehension show on his face. However, if he really wanted to play volleyball... and Akaashi did apply for Fukurodani for this…

He was going to have to play here.

"Alright," Akaashi says, and follows Bokuto into the gym.

* * *

It ends up being better than he thought (or worse, depending on the perspective). Bokuto is a good spiker, and the two of them get used to working together fast enough.

But Bokuto is just— bright. He's bright in a way that people can't take their eyes off him, even though it burns, like a whirling supernova mixed with a million stars and comets that spin too fast for the human eye to see.

Akaashi thinks he might be a little captivated.

"Again!" crows Bokuto, raising his fist in a cheer.

Sarukui, another member of the team, throws a ball towards Akaashi.

When orange light starts to cast in through the tall windows, a staff member comes over to tell them to tidy up. Bokuto shoves a slightly crumpled leaflet into his hands as Akaashi zips up his duffel bag. "You play pretty awesome!" he says. "Come back any time!!"

"I'll think about it," replies Akaashi to Bokuto's retreating back, watching the other boy dash out of the gym as the sound of rapid steps fade.

He comes back again. And again.

* * *

One afternoon after practice, as they are tidying up the court and Bokuto and Komi are chasing each other, Washio steps up next to Akaashi. "I'll like to talk to you about something," he says.

Akaashi stops trying to close his bursting duffel bag. "Okay... ?"

"Follow me," replies Washio, and Akaashi finds himself in the empty hallway.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Washio stares down at him, and Akaashi's never been treated in a hostile way by any of his teammates, but this time he feels as if Washio's eyes are piercing through his soul, trying to find weak spots and flaws. "You know Bokuto, right," he says, after what seems like a lifetime.

"Yeah," says Akaashi.

Washio scrutinizes him. "I'll say you're pretty good," he starts. "But I have to warn you. There's a reason that the volleyball club at Fukurodani doesn't have many members. Bokuto is... well, it's not his fault. But if you want to leave, then do it soon."

_Is he badmouthing Bokuto?_ Akaashi thinks incredulously.

"Bokuto-san seems fine to me," he replies neutrally.

Washio's eyes glint. Then it's gone in a flash, replaced by an expression which looks like his usual one. "You may think Bokuto is cheery. Bright. Excited. Maybe childlike. But he has bad episodes sometimes, like all of us. And they're just as intense as his usual self, if only happening sporadically. People joined the club, because of all sorts of reasons. When they can't handle him, then they leave."

"Bokuto-san is not something to be 'handled'." Akaashi purses his lips.

_I've been through worse,_ Akaashi doesn't say.

"Don't let him down or lead him on." A teacher walks past them, aiming a quizzical look at the two of them. Washio detaches himself from the wall, leaning forward. "I'm not trying to discourage him from friendship or whatever. Just don't be a dick."

"I won't," Akaashi replies, and that was that.

* * *

By some sort of twisted fate or just plain irony, one of the episodes Washio warned Akaashi happens a week after the talk.

When Bokuto misses a spike the third time in a row, he holds up a hand when Akaashi makes to set.

"Bokuto-san?"

"Don't bother setting for me," Bokuto says gloomily. Akaashi notices his slouched posture, and Bokuto drags his feet across the court as he makes his way over to the bench and sits down with a thump.

Akaashi glances around and catches Washio's eye.

"He'll be fine!" calls Komi.

Akaashi comes to a stop next to Bokuto, but doesn't sit down. "Bokuto-san," he says.

Bokuto drags out something between a whine and a grumble.

"Bokuto-san," repeats Akaashi. He raises his eyebrows, even though he knows Bokuto can't see his face. "Why are you sad?"

"I wasted your time," Bokuto says, his voice quiet and dejected. "And I'm going to drag everyone down... "

"You just missed some spikes," replies Akaashi, his voice neutral.

To his surprise, Bokuto exhales with a rattling noise. "Akaashi, please leave me alone,"

"No!" Akaashi nearly shouts. He backtracks. "Look, you can be sad. That's fine. But at the end, you're going to be fine. It's fine. You don't have to feel fine— take your time. Just. It's okay... " he trails off awkwardly.

Bokuto doesn't say something for a while— for such a long time that Akaashi considers trying to sneak away if only to pretend that the whole conversation had never happened. But then Bokuto stands up abruptly, nearly knocking Akaashi to the ground.

"Bokuto-san... ?"

"Akaashi!" Bokuto yells, putting his hands on either side of Akaashi's shoulders. He stops himself from flinching from surprise and the impact. "You're right!!"

Akaashi blinks, confused.

"That's really cool of you, you know?!" continues Bokuto, not letting go of Akaashi's shoulders. "If I missed, then I should keep practicing! I'll become the very best!!"

He dashes back off to the court, leaving Akaashi staring at the wall in faint bemusement. It wasn't even close to what he said, but at least it didn't turn out awkward. And Bokuto felt okay now... 

A slight smile on his face, Akaashi walks back towards Bokuto.

* * *

"Hey hey hey!"

Jolting up from a staring session with the small beetle on the table, Akaashi's head twists towards the entrance to the roof, fingers frozen around his chopsticks. "Bokuto-san... ?"

Apparently, the whole team is here. Konoha and Komi are crouched near the vending machine, Washio leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. Yukie gives him a small wave, having just come through the staircase doorway.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" asks Bokuto. He dumps himself down on the bench opposite Akaashi, trying to open his can of soda. "I think the cafeteria's not that crowded- you can always sit with us if you can't find a seat!"

Akaashi's fingers twitch around his chopsticks, but otherwise succeeds in suppressing the urge to tense. "I like the view," he says finally, reaching out to grab Bokuto's can and open it for him. "It's... nice,"

The rest of the team had joined them, taking seats around the scrappy table. Sarukui takes a seat next to him, Yukie settling down on his other side and unwrapping a bread roll.

"So—" starts Konoha, biting into a wrapped onigiri. Komi takes this opportunity to reach over and grab his juice box, taking an obnoxious slurp. Bokuto cackles as Konoha steals an egg roll in revenge.

"This is normal," explains Sarukui with a terrifying amount of calmness, even for Akaashi himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi sees Yukie nod vigorously.

Akaashi tries not to tense from the tight concentration of company around him, and lets their chatter wash over him as he resumes eating and slowly, slowly relaxes.

* * *

One day during lunch (apparently, the roof is a new hangout place now), Komi decides to stand on the bench.

"Please come down," Konoha says with a long-suffering sigh. He's peering up at Komi, a hand shielding his eyes. "I do not want to look at the sun right now,"

Sarukui and Washio are poring over homework, oblivious to the mess above them. Or perhaps they just chose to ignore it. Yukie is absent today, eating lunch with her classmates down in the cafeteria.

Unlike Konoha, Bokuto is staring up at Komi with an expression of awe. "Oh my Kami," he says, almost reverently.

"Please come down," repeats Konoha. Akaashi sees him shoot a helpless glance at Washio and Sarukui.

"I have an important announcement," Komi declares. He jerks slightly as if about to strike a pose, but decides not to for the mercy of not kicking Konoha and Bokuto off the bench. "Today morning, at three forty-six AM, Washio Tatsuki stated his rejection of—"

Washio doesn't look up from the pile of textbooks he's sharing with Sarukui, but Akaashi sees his ears turn pink.

Sarukui, unlike his study partner, does look up. "Komi—" he starts.

Akaashi never does find out what Saukui was going to say, because at that moment Bokuto shoots up suddenly, jostling the table and causing Komi's water bottle (screwed tight and closed, thankfully) to topple over and roll onto the ground. No one pays it any attention. 

"Oh!" he yells. "We forgot to add Akaashi—" His head swivels towards him, eyes focusing. "Akaashi, give me your phone!"

Akaashi blinks. "Oh, uhm, okay." He slides his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Bokuto, who taps excitedly against his screen with the enthusiasm of a child getting their first phone, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

When he hands the phone back to Akaashi, he peers down at the screen to see 'Bokuto Koutarou' with two owl emojis on the front and back of the name. It's endearing, for some reason.

Opposite him, Bokuto has pulled out his own phone. A few seconds later, Akaashi hears a small 'ding' from his own phone, and taps at the notification.

**owl boy extraordinaire:** yall better treat my fav first year well

**sarusaru:** you kiss-ass

"You're the only first year, since the rest of them left," explains Konoha bluntly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Akaashi tears his eyes away from the wrestling Komi and Bokuto to look at Konoha, who is studiously ignoring the pair. "Welcome to the club, kiddo."

* * *

He doesn't know quite how it happened— one day, Bokuto asked him, "Can I walk home with you? You live near Jimaichi, right? I think it's near the crossroads on Yokusa Street, except that I go to Meisho Street instead of... " He rambles off, and promptly proceeds to describe Akaashi's (near) entire route home in alarming detail.

Akaashi takes a while to process this.

"Wait!" Bokuto hurries to add. "I swear I'm not a stalker. I think I saw you around that area, so I assumed! Akaashi?!"

For some unknown reason, Akaashi opens his mouth and says, "Okay."

And then second days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. They ended up doing it almost every day, like a pair of middle-school best friends.

Akaashi is secretly grateful Bokuto doesn't notice the fact that he doesn't have anyone to walk home with, or doesn't mention it— he had tried to pretend once or twice, at first, but after a while Akaashi just decided to drop the act.

"Akaashi," says Bokuto one afternoon, as amber washes over the sidewalk and sparrows chirp from roadside trees. "You would tell me if something's wrong, right?"

Akaashi turns to look at him, expression neutral. He tilts his head. "What's wrong?"

"I mean... " Bokuto knots his hands together, stretching them in the direction of the sky. "I'm not bothering you, right? You would tell me if I was,"

"You're not bothering me," Akaashi says. He doesn't say it as a comforting platitude, just a matter of fact. Bokuto appreciates it.

He nods his head vigorously, not knowing exactly what to say.

At a crossroads (not the one they separate at), Bokuto suddenly pauses in his tracks.

Sensing the sudden lack of a presence next to him, Akaashi stops walking after a moment and gives him a quizzical look.

"Does this mean we're friends now?"

Akaashi sighs. "Yes, we are," he replies.

Bokuto lets out a whoop, scaring off some sparrows from a tree nearby.

It's a good day.

* * *

"Uhm, Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto stops the victory routine he'd been doing, lowering his arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Akaashi shakes his head. "I'm just telling you that I've got to go,"

Bokuto tilts his head, the motion birdlike. "Really?"

"Of course really," Akaashi replies. He waves at them. "Continue without me, I'll go back to normal schedule next week- I have extra errands this week,"

"Aw, okay!" Bokuto picks up a volleyball, then puts it down, heading over to Akaashi. "Hey, wait! Can you toss one more time? I—"

He catches sight of the bruise— several ones, actually— on Akaashi's arm, having been perfectly hidden by his elbow pads.

So, as the only logical thing to do, Bokuto gives a piercing shriek that echoes around the gymnasium. "Akaashi!"

Akaashi flinches for a moment, then continues stuffing his elbow pads in his duffel bag. "It's nothing," he says, holding his arms closer around himself. "I. Hurt myself during practice,"

"Are you practicing without me?!" squawks Bokuto. His train of thought takes pity and decides to come back. "Wait, you're injured! That's why your tosses were less strong!"

"Bokuto-san, there's really no need—" Akaashi opens his mouth to let out a protest, or to stop him— but the rest of the team had paused their practice, crowding around the bench. Konoha stares at Akaashi's arm.

"I understand that you want to get better, bou shouldn't be overexerting yourself," he says. "And if you're going to ignore your injuries, they'll just become worse."

"S— Sorry, Konoha-san," Akaashi bows. "Bokuto-san,"

"You're forgiven!" declares Bokuto. He pauses, looking at Akaashi. "But you gotta rest, okay? Konoha's right!"

"Thank you for taking care of me," Akaashi bows again. He picks up his duffel bag, slining it over his shoulder. "I apologise for the trouble."

Bokuto can't help but think that he missed something.

* * *

Akaashi is quiet. Shy. They're not exactly the same, but Akaashi supposes that there's a fine line between disliking most social company and feeling anxious about others' opinions. Yes, he doesn't seek people out. No, he does not ignore people who try to talk to him. Yes, he really does prefer working on his own. No, he does not want any part of other people's business, thank you very much.

Still, some people try to push through his boundaries— reasonable ones, like 'don't take my things without asking', 'don't partner up with me when I haven't even spoken to you', and generally, 'don't bother me if I refuse your company, because you are not entitled to it'.

"Yooo, Akaashi," leers one of the boys behind him. Gyuku, who used to go to the same middle school as him, and Akaashi was unfortunate enough that he got into Fukurodani along with him.

With Gyuku is Akiru and Himono, who went to other schools. Akaashi doesn't know which ones— you simply didn't keep up with childhood bullies. But apparently because he had finally, perhaps, found something that made his days a little less miserable, fate decided to assemble the three of them into one pain in the ass.

"Go away," mutters Akaashi, hefting his bag higher over his stiff shoulders.

"Oh?!" croons Himono. The last time (which was literally two days ago, because of Akaashi's shitty luck), he still looked as orge-like as he did in middle school. "He finally grew some guts, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Akiru parrots. Akaashi digs his fingers into the strap of his duffel bag, his gaze fixed on the pavement, forcing his legs to walk faster. "Hey, why don't we have a fight right now? Since you're acting so bold!"

Akaashi screeches to a stop— whether from fear or something else, he doesn't know. "Please leave me alone," he says.

Don't throw a punch. Be respectful.That way, no one can have leverage against you.

"I think he's getting too brave for his own good," booms Gyuku. "Boys, I think you know what this means... "

The sensation of his beating heart pounds in Akaashi's chest— and he moves, twists around, runs. His feet slap against the pavement in a discordant beat, and the wind sears his face, scenery whirling around his vision until the sharp beeping of a traffic light stops him.

He looks behind him. Doesn't see anyone, save for a small old woman walking her dog.

The sound of them laughing at him rings sharply in Akaashi's ears long after he's crossed the road.

* * *

When he's home, Akaashi takes ice from the fridge and bundles it with cloth, binding it around his arm.

**owl boy extraordinaire:** you gotta be careful, okay!! >:OO

Akaashi smiles slightly and starts to type out a message,

**akaashi:** thank you for the conce|

He stops abruptly, fingers hovering over the screen. Akaashi deletes the message he had been typing, and types out another one.

**akaashi:** sorry for worrying you bokuto-san

He presses 'send' and puts his phone down, picking up his literature notes and a highlighter.

He shouldn't feel pleased about worrying other people. If he was happy over that, wouldn't Akaashi be just as mean as the bullies?

... his notes are drenched in bright neon ink, the colors harsh and piercing.

The lack of a sigh emphasizes Akaashi's tiredness. He picks up a ballpoint pen instead, and fumbles for lined paper, beginning to write as the streetlights outside continue to glow softly.

* * *

"Please stay away from me," says Akaashi, braver than he feels.

He's tired. He's angry— or as angry as he can have the strength to be. He's not going to disappoint his teammates by leaving practice early, just so Akaashi can deal with the trio on his own and not get accosted when he leaves school with Bokuto; he's going to face them, and he's going to take responsibility instead of running away ('like a coward,' a voice in his mind sneers, suspiciously close to Himono's taunting one).

Maybe it was just one second, but Akaashi swears he sees them falter— but the moment is here and then gone the next, as a blur flies towards him and Akaashi raised an arm, like that would do anything, and—

Pain blossoms across the left side of his face, and Akaashi feels a dizzying rush whirl through his head as he stumbles back, staggering, hand pressed to his cheek.

Loud, pattering footsteps approach. Akaashi turns around to see Bokuto running towards him, a water bottle— his water bottle— in his hand.

"Akaashi! You forgot your water—"

Bokuto cuts off, looking at Gyuku, Akiru and Himono. 

Akaashi steps forward and takes the water bottle. "Thank you, Bokuto-san," he says, putting it in his duffel bag, feeling the weight of the trio's gazes. "You should go back to practice," he adds, giving a (probably unconvincing) smile.

Bokuto doesn't reply, frowning. Akaashi's eyes flicker from him to Gyuku, Akiru and Himono- he tugs on the other boy's sleeve.

"Bokuto-san, let's go," he hisses. Bokuto doesn't look at him, his gaze fixed on the leering trio.

Akiru saunters forward, and Akaashi's stomach sinks.

"Oh, so you've found someone to clean up after you?" Akiru smiles. It's nothing close to a pleasant one— Akaashi feels something twist inside his stomach, as if he had eaten something bad. He's looking at Bokuto like Akaashi isn't there, waving his hands around like he's giving a speech. "I suppose you might want to take care of him, defend him from the scary outside world; but it's not that,"

"We were just catching up," Himono butts in. "We went to middle school together, you see?"

"Pardon us, Bokuto-san." Gyuku spreads his hands. Akaashi feels something oily trickles down his throat. "We are trying to help Akaashi-kun open up, you know? He's always been… ah," Gyuku mock winces. "A problem child. I figure that having his old classmates would help him loosen up, make friends, socialize,"

Akiru stares into Akaashi's eyes. There is only cruelness, mockery, but his tone is sympathetic. "I'm so sorry for the trouble he has caused you, Bokuto san," he frowns, shaking his head. "But as Akaashi-kun's friends, we will try to make up for him and help him as best as he could— it would break our hearts to see a classmate so lonely. We only want him to improve,"

The world seems to slow even more, his surrounding seemingly sludge. Gyuku and Akiru and Himono standing calmly. Bokuto hasn't moved, gaze unblinking. Akaashi's fingers wavering at his side, like moths fluttering near a flame.

"Step away from me, Akaashi," comes out Bokuto's voice. It's cold.

He tenses but holds himself ramrod straight, not flinching. Akaashi tastes blood in his mouth, having bitten down hard on his lip. He ignores it.

Akaashi knows he's weak. Even after he tried to stand up... and now the only thing worse than his classmates finding out had happened.

But he would rather die before he showed it— Akaashi supposed he was a coward, at the end.

"Sorry for the bother, Bokuto-san," Akaashi bows, his voice is steady. No tears drip down to the pavement below. "I'll leave now—"

His ears are ringing, his eyes hot. Someone yells out something- by Gyuku or Akiru or Himono or Bokuto, he doesn't know.

Don't throw a punch. Be respectful.

Akaashi stands up, back straight. Reaches up to adjust the strap of his duffel bag—

Then something whirls past his eyes and Akaashi really couldn't stop himself from flinching, taking a step back and tripping over his own feet and nerves. When he looks up, Bokuto appears to be... brawling?

Gyuku is on his back, with Akiru standing a distance away as if deciding whether to run away or not. Himono is standing, but Bokuto swings a punch and causes him to stumble back.

"Let's get out of here!" calls Akiru from down the street.

Bokuto looks up, as if deciding whether to go after them or not. Gyuku and Himono take this opportunity to scramble to their feet, running towards Akiru.

They watch as the three disappear around a street corner.

Akaashi finds his voice. "Bokuto-san?!"

Bokuto turns, opening his mouth to say something. Akaashi's anxiety steamrolls over it, and promptly skyrockets when he catches sight of his senpai's knuckles. "You're bleeding?!"

Akaashi watches in horror (and his heartbeat reaching indescribable heights) as Bokuto wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. "Bokuto-san!!"

"Akaashi!" answers Bokuto. He looks rueful for a second, before grinning. "They were hella mean! Look, I'll go home with you from now on, okay?"

"Bokuto-san!" says Akaashi again. It seems to be all he can say. Then, after pausing a moment to recollect his thoughts, "You really don't need to! I'm sorry for the trouble!"

"It's not your fault," Bokuto says, his eyebrows knitted closely together. He's not even yelling. 

This is the most serious Akaashi has ever seen him.

A hot rush of shame fills Akaashi.

"I'm sorry—" he starts.

Bokuto holds up a hand, shaking him off. He opens his mouth, then closes it. "Akaashi," he begins. "It's not your fault. Really. You don't need to apologise- they were mean to you, and that's not your fault. Ever. It's not your job to stop them, and you don't need to blame yourself for 'failing' to…. Akaashi?"

Akaashi blinks. "Yes!"

"Don't ever blame yourself for something like that!" Bokuto straightens up, clapping Akaashi on the shoulder. He squints. "Wait, are you crying?"

"No!" says Akaashi, taking on a defensive tone. It's quickly replaced by a scandalized one as the past events fully register in his mind. "Bokuto-san!"

"Yes, Akaashi?"

"You punched someone! You shouldn't have done that!!" Akaashi wants to sink into the ground, right now. "What if it goes on your record?!"

"Those guys were meanies!" Bokuto sniffs, crossing his arms. "They absolutely deserved it. Plus," and an unsettling glint appears in his eyes— one that makes Akaashi want to flee for his life or whack Bokuto over the head in an attempt to pour logic into his senpai. Bokuto, oblivious to Akaashi's inner turmoil, continues on without missing a beat. "We can sue them back!"

"Bokuto-san!!"

* * *

There's still about half an hour until the school closes, so Akaashi reluctantly agrees to come back to the gym, if only to ensure that Bokuto would take care of his bleeding hand. He's sitting on the sidelines with Bokuto, a first-aid kit open on the bench between them. An unravelled roll of bandages sits precautiously, the end dangling off the bench.

"You can't keep taking care of me," scolds Bokuto. Akaashi looks like he wants to give him an exasperated look, but fails. "Look, you gotta tell me when shit happens, okay? That's what friends do!"

"Sorry," says Akaashi. He removes the ice pack from his cheek, holding it in his hands. "I'm not sure if punching them is the right way to solve it, though... "

"They deserve it," Bokuto rebutts, and is about to say something before he catches sight of the ice pack in Akaashi's hands and lets out a squawk. "What are you doing! It's only been such a short time, put your ice pack back—"

Akaashi mercifully puts him out of his (perfectly reasonable) distress and goes back to holding the ice pack against his cheek. "Mother hen," he deadpans.

"If anything, I'm an owl!" yells Bokuto.

"Don't worry, next week I'll go back to being the one babysitting."

"Akaashi!!"

* * *

They splash down the streets, sloshing in puddles.

This time, Akaashi is the one standing at the crossroad, waiting for Bokuto. The other boy barrels into him, soaking Akaashi's socks even more.

"I'm going to get a cold," deadpans Akaashi, yanking on the hood of Bokuto's raincoat. "By the way, did you get sloppier?"

"Owls don't do good in wet weather," retorts Bokuto. Through the rain, his eyes glimmer. "I'll beat you next time!"

"Okay, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, lifting up a hand to wave. "See you tomorrow." (crossroads approaches? perhaps they just stop at the crossroads before this for the race)

"I'll beat you next time!" yells Bokuto. "Bye, Akaashi!"

He turns around, dashing off into the street.

For some unknown reason, instead of turning around and making his way home like he usually does, Akaashi watches Bokuto go, until the bright yellow of his raincoat blurs into the hazy rain.

"Excuse me, young man," croaks a passing man, jolting Akaashi out of his reverie.

"S— Sorry," mutters Akaashi.

When he gets home, he stares outside his window, watching umbrellas float along the sidewalk. Once in a while, he sees children skip in puddles.

Akaashi continues staring, until the sky darkens into a murky black, the rain not showing any sign of stopping. Once dark shop lights and apartment windows glow bright, akin lanterns being lit in dark night.

Absentmindedly, Akaashi thinks the dulled glow of yellow streetlights look rather like Bokuto's eyes.

"I must be lacking sleep," Akaashi muses to himself.

He ignores the weird feeling in his chest.

* * *

"Hell yeah!" cheers Bokuto as a volleyball lands on the opposite side, causing a loud bang from the swift descend.

"Did you see that, Akaashi?" Bokuto whips around. Akaashi looks at him neutrally, but doesn't say anything. "It rocketed straight from my hand to the floor! Hey, I wonder if I dented the floor... "

"I don't think you did, Bokuto-san," says Akaashi. He holds up his hands to catch the volleyball, placing it on the floor. "Coach would be mad at you if you did,"

"Hmm… " Bokuto scrunches up his eyebrows in thought. "You're right! Hey, can I high-five you?"

Akaashi doesn't look terribly enthusiastic, but holds up his palms. Bokuto runs over and slaps it, though taking care not to hit it as hard as he did the volleyball.

"Another one!" declares Bokuto, dashing back to his position.

Akaashi complies.

* * *

"Akaashi, you got a letter!"

Akaashi finishes setting for Bokuto, and waits until the ball hits the court before making his way over to Komi. "What letter?" he says.

Komi grins proudly, and hands him a plain white envelope with 'To: Akaashi Keiji' written in looping black pen. Akaashi turns it around and squints at the cartoon cat sticker sealing the envelope closed.

"What's up?" asks Bokuto loudly from behind Akaashi, and he winces from the sound. "Akaashi!! You got a confession letter?"

"What's this," deadpans Washio.

"I got a letter?" Akaashi says it like a question. He turns the envelope over in his hands. "I wonder what's inside,"

"Don't open it here," pipes up Konoha. "I mean, unless you want to! But these things are personal," he says, and levers a look at Komi.

"Hmm," Akaashi says in response. "You don't have to reply, right?"

"No... ?" Sarukui says.

Akaashi purses his lips, like he's about to say something, but lets the matter drop and goes back to setting for Bokuto.

* * *

"Are you at least going to look inside?" remarks Bokuto when the two of them are heading home.

Akaashi shrugs casually. "Maybe? It's not like they really know me." He looks at the approaching stoplight, the sound of rhythmic footsteps a calming presence in the back of his mind. "I mean, I like owls, not cats— I have a keychain of one on my backpack, so it's not that hard to see,"

"One day you will find someone who gives you a confession letter with owls on it," jokes Bokuto, before freezing. Akaashi doesn't seem to notice.

"Maybe," he says absentmindedly.

When Bokuto looks at him, Akaashi's gaze appears to be distracted, staring up at the sky above them.

* * *

He sneaks a glance towards Akaashi. The other boy is holding the volleyball on the pads of his fingers, bouncing it for a few seconds before Akaashi's whole body seems to lift up, like (for lack of a better adjective) angel. Bokuto watches, mesmerised, as the ball flies away from Akaashi's hands and—

Oh. He's supposed to be the spiker.

Bokuto screeches, holding up a hand as the ball approaches. 'I'm going to die,' he thinks hysterically. 'I'm going to die because I was too busy staring at Akaashi Keiji—'

He does not, in fact, die. The volleyball narrowly misses his face and rolls off to the side of the court. Less fortunately, Bokuto has apparently lost his balance in surprise and is now sitting on the floor.

Nothing appears to be hurt, but his butt aches from the impact.

"My butt hurts," Bokuto tells Akaashi, who has come over to help him up.

Akaashi raises his eyebrows and takes hold of Bokuto's upper arm, hauling him upright. "Acknowledged."

Komi shouts something from where he's stretching on mats with Washio.

_All's fair in love and war,_ thinks Bokuto ruefully. _I would miss a thousand spikes for you, Akaashi!_

Except that Akaashi was his setter, so he would probably be mad. Wait, his setter… ?

Bokuto jolts at realizing the mental (not-so) slipup, and ends up missing another serve.

At least he doesn't trip and fall again.

* * *

"It's going to be your last year," Akaashi remarks.

He's known that since— since forever, actually, that there was going to be a time when Bokuto would graduate. It was just… Akaashi had never dwelt much on it, tucking it away in a closet in the very back of his mind, and had, ultimately, if he dares to admit it, forgotten the fact.

It hits him now like a jackhammer in the chest, fracture lines spanning across glass that might crack any moment.

Akaashi forcefully wills himself not to think. If he does, he would probably cry. Right in front of Bokuto.

"Yeah!" replied Bokuto, oblivious to Akaashi's inner turmoil. He reaches up to cross his arms behind his head, but sombers. "It's kind of… shocking,"

"Have you considered which university you're going to?" asks Akaashi. University. Majors. New volleyball team. Normal things.

"I've got my eye on a few," Bokuto says. In the light of the setting sun, his eyes gleam gold. "Hoshikura offered me a scholarship, but it's not my top choice so it's not definite,"

"I'm sure you will find the right one," Akaashi says, hefting up the strap of his schoolbag.

He does not say, _I'll miss you, Bokuto-san_. He does not say, _Can I call you Koutarou, since it's been that long?_ He does not say, _Will you watch us play after you graduate?_

"You'll be alright," settles Akaashi.

Bokuto makes a noncommittal noise. "I'm…. I'm just thinking of Fukurodani," he confesses.

Akaashi tilts his head to look at him.

"I know it's stupid," continues Bokuto. "But... I'm. Just. All the things I'll leave behind. It sounds like a child's dream, but… I don't want to leave."

He does not say, I don't want you to leave either, Bokuto-san.

"Fukurodani is just a school, Bokuto-san," starts Akaashi. It's Bokuto's turn to look at him. Akaashi takes a deep breath— internally, he jabs himself for trying to comfort himself more than he is Bokuto. He feels as if he's hanging onto a string pulled taut, tension humming in the air and ready to snap any time. "We'll stay in contact. We can still play together. The people haven't gone away. You can visit the campus anytime you like, even,"

Akaashi does not look at Bokuto, because he might burst into tears. Which is stupid, because— because it was Bokuto who was graduating, not him.

Bokuto is quiet.

"Will you miss me?"

Akaashi blinks.

There are a lot of things he does not say. He allows this one to slip past.

"I will," Akaashi says.

Somehow, it only seems to make the ache grow.

* * *

"I think you're a great friend, Akaashi," Bokuto blurts out during break.

Akaashi glances at him, expression unreadable. "I think you're a great friend too, Bokuto-san." He takes a swig from his water bottle before holding out the water bottle to Bokuto. "Do you need it?"

Bokuto fumbles, nearly spilling the content all over him. Akaashi remains calm.

"Let's go again!"

"Okay, Bokuto-san."

This is happiness, thinks Bokuto, unbidden. It nearly causes him to miss a spike.

He looks over at Akaashi— there is a sort of glow to him. If his best moments were blazing like the sun, then Akaashi would be the moon. And the world, the court, could be their stars.

The thought fills him with a rush of warmth.

Bokuto wouldn't mind it if this were— forever.

* * *

Time flies with fluttering wings in the beat of the wind, like a volleyball careening to the ground, like lightning-quick spikes, like energetic high-fives, like orange washing across the sky, like the split-second it takes to snap a photo and the reflex of your mind as you store away a memory.

Like the moment you fall in love with someone, and the aeons you spend loving them. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months. Years.

It's time. But it matters, and it doesn't.

It passes.

* * *

They take lots of pictures. Akaashi scribbles an owl on Bokuto's graduation cap, and Bokuto himself draws many more on the other third-years'.

"One last practice?" Sarukui suggests.

"You make it sound like we're going to die," Washio grumbles, but it's good-natured. Akaashi swears he sees tears glittering in his eyes.

Komi nearly trips over his graduation robe in his haste to get to the gym. "Let's play extra hard!" he declares.

They do.

At the end— and time seems to come way too fast, because maybe the staff members took pity on the graduates and let the students stay longer— they leave later than usual by half an hour.

When they leave, there are still students scattered in clusters at the school gates. Akaashi watches as a cluster of them perform a misshapen group hug, sobbing.

"This is really it, huh?" says Bokuto.

The silence says more than enough.

* * *

There's a tension.

"Can we race?" asks Bokuto, the sentence bursting out of him.

"Sure," replies Akaashi. "Count of three?"

"Okay," Bokuto says. They stop on the pavement. "Three— two— one—"

They weave through the pavements, making their way down the familiar streets. There are no crossings with flashing red lights, and they don't stop, careening.

It almost feels like flying, but instead of new excitement it feels like an old memory— as if the streets themselves were making indents for their feet, the pavement twisting to their will.

Akaashi catches Bokuto on the crossroads. Where they would separate.

"You won," Akaashi grins.

He always has.

Breathing hard, Akaashi straightens up. "Bokuto-san," he starts.

To his surprise, Bokuto holds up a hand to stop him. "Akaashi— Keiji," He's doubled over, sweat running down in rivulets, and the sunset catches his skin, glistening. Bokuto straightens up now, so they're looking each other in the eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

_Oh._

Bokuto doesn't have time to regret the words— because Akaashi jolts up, his eyes wide and- and yanks Bokuto by the front of his shirt and presses their mouths together.

It's awkward, and slightly messy, and Bokuto is left clinging to Akaashi's shoulders to balance himself before reaching up to cup the other boy's face, staying in the position for a fair few seconds before breaking apart.

"I love you," tumbles out of Bokuto's mouth. Because he has, in a way, since Akaashi sent him a serve on some Thursday afternoon, since all those days walking home in the sunset's orange light, since tournaments and practices and all those little things in between. It's as easy as water to say what has dwelled in him for so long.

"I sort of gathered," smiles Akaashi like a sunrise, blooming over his features. It's not blazing, not like what others compare Bokuto to a supernova; Akaashi is quiet and shining and beautiful and— and he loves Bokuto back.

Bokuto wants to kiss him again.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asks.

They do.

* * *

It is like an old movie. It is like a dream. It is something offset with grainy film and orange light, washing across the skies; it is something with the steady scuffle of shoes on the pavement, it is the pounding of a volleyball and sparrows in flight, and rustling paper and smiles like hopeful sunrise and comfort like nostalgic sunset. It is something that seems ever so familiar; it is something that brings me the feeling of life made anew. It is something I have known all my life; it is something I have known once upon a dream. It is love; this is love; you are love. It is easy to love you and it is hard to stay; but I do. I will. It is how I say, I love you, I love you, I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you sm for reading this!! i hope it brought you joy ☆ ～('▽^人)
> 
> fictional names i made up:  
> jimaichi = lonely-city  
> yokusa = sun-grass  
> meisho = gloom-crystal  
> hoshikura = star-dark  
> (gyuku, akiru and himono's names don't mean anything. or at least, i didn't bother to check— just made them up because they felt right to me)
> 
> by the way, the poem thing at the end was written by me. so, uh, don't try to google for the author... i was going to put a fake name but i'm not that cruel asjsjskmssks
> 
> drop by at my [tumblr](https://kitfira.tumblr.com/)!! my ask box is open


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